Calends of Janus
by frostygossamer
Summary: Merlin meets a stranger in the forest and Arthur embarasses him again. A little follow up to my story 'Pendragon at Midwinter' for New Year. Please please review.


Calends of Janus by frostygossamer

It's the first hunt after Midwinter and the air is raucous with the baying of the hounds, the sounding of horns and the halloos of Prince Arthur and his knights as they pursue a mighty stag through the forest of Camelot.

Merlin and the squires have built a shelter from branches and a great crackling fire to heat the mulled mead stiffeners, to be served with pheasant sandwiches and enormous wedges of boar 'n' spiced apple pie.

The other knights' squires are rough and ready, with their roughhousing and salty language, so Merlin drifts off into his own silence on the edge of the clearing. Out of the corner of his eye he suddenly spots a movement in the foliage and goes to investigate.  
At first he finds nothing, then a voice behind him breathes his name, "Merlin...".

Merlin whirls around to see a sinister hooded figure. The figure lifts its hood to reveal a handsome manly face.

"Who are you, and what do you want here?", asks Merlin suspiciously.

"I am called Janus", replies the figure "And I have come to give you a timely warning". He lets his hood drop again.

Merlin looks alarmed. "What warning?", he stammers.

The figure lifts his hood a second time to reveal a transformed visage, fierce and craggy. Merlin recoils a step.

"Honour the past, young wizard.  
Respect sacred tradition, young sorcerer.  
Let your feet trace the ancient well-trod path. Fear to stray far from the time-forged foretelling.  
Never heedlessly follow new-fashioned notions.  
Least you forfeit the prophecy,  
And fail the expectations of Albion!", he intones powerfully.

"What's that supposed to mean?", Merlin asks, confused.

"Well", responds Janus, passing his hand over his face and restoring his more handsome looks. "I think it's basically: stick to the legends and don't start making up inappropriate contemporary rubbish or audience figures may suffer".

"Suffer? At King Uther's royal audience? Who? Why? How?", Merlin stutters in bewilderment when...

At this moment a hunting horn sounds and the hunt rushes past very close by. Merlin jumps and rolls behind a rock and when he resurfaces the mysterious figure has disappeared completely.

Merlin returns to the fire and after a few further minutes the hunters canter up laughing, sweating and scarlet in the face with the joy of the chase. Arthur has the carcass of a rather small doe over his saddle and, immediately he dismounts, he strides up to Merlin with it in one hand and, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck without warning, he rubs its bloody entrails in his face.

Merlin squirms and protests vehemently in absolute disgust, flapping his arms ineffectually. Arthur laughs himself hoarse and the all other knights joins in. What's worse the squires chortle to themselves as they serve the welcome victuals to their tired and happy masters. Merlin looks huffy as he serves Arthur his mead. Arthur just grins and tells him 'blooding' is a traditional ritual for someone new to the hunt and to stop being such a touchy blighter.

On the way back to Camelot the squires whisper behind their hands and laugh together. Merlin resolves to have a word with Arthur later about mutual respect.

The next morning at Camelot Arthur seeks out Guinevere and finds her returning from Morgana's room. He grasps her hand without a word and drags her up the giddy spiral staircase into a high turret where they can be completely and perfectly alone.

"I didn't give you your Midwinter gift", he whispers softly.

Guinevere leans forward into a breathless and almost-chaste kiss. As she does so Arthur presses something cold into her hand and when they break apart she glances down to find a tiny silver locket. Opening it she discovers a perfect curl of Arthur's golden hair.

"Wear it always. For me", Arthur murmurs. Guinevere nods and for a moment all they can hear is the beguiling breeze blowing over Camelot and in through the turret's cruciform arrowslit.

Pause for a heartbeat and listen...

Suddenly the silence is rudely disrupted by sounds of argument from directly below, born upward on the wind.

"That's Merlin's voice", Arthur declares and, before Guinevere can say anything, he is bounding away down the stairs, three at a time. Guinevere sighs. This is never going anywhere!

That morning Merlin had returned to the woods on the ruse of collecting medicinal herbs for Gaius. His real purpose was to find the sinister Janus again and ask him to further explain his pronouncement of the day before. It had worried him enormously. However search as he might he found no trace of the man. But he did find an oak with a patch of mistletoe and he gathered some in a little basket that he had brought with him.

Now, just outside the castle gates, the squires who derided Merlin yesterday have cornered him and are giggling at his little basket of mistletoe and calling him names such as "lily-livered chicken-heart" and "Prince Arthur's little maidservant".

Arthur marches up looking effortlessly imposing, and gorgeous, with his hands on his hips. He just needs to raise an eyebrow in disapproval and Merlin's tormenters scarper. Merlin is particularly relieved as he was about to resort to using his magic powers to sort them out, not a good idea in plain view of the castle guards. Arthur tells him he is a wimp and cuffs him affectionately.

Merlin returns to his room to sulk. As he enters Gaius' workroom the old man looks up with a smile that quickly changes into a question.

"What has he done now?", he asks, the subject being apparent.

"Just being his usual self, of course", Merlin replies slumping down into a chair beside Gaius. "I don't know why I even bother".

"Because he's going to be King some day, Merlin", says Gaius, pointing out the obvious.

"Well he needs to learn a bit of decorum before then, if he's going to survive", snaps Merlin, grinding his teeth and flouncing off to his room in a mood.

Later that evening Merlin is in Arthur's chamber, standing by the hearth poking the fire, when Arthur comes in to change for dinner.

"It was all your fault. You know", Merlin moans.

"What was?", Arthur asks, unbuckling and laying down his sword on the table.

"That business with the deer's blood. That's what started the mockery", Merlin whinges.

"Well you shouldn't have been such a girly idiot about it", Arthur rejoins.

Merlin hefts the poker then puts it down reluctantly. "In future I think you should show me a bit of appropriate employer/employee respect. And keep a proper distance. We're not friends you know".

"Of course we're not friends, Merlin", Arthur laughs. "You're a servant and I'm a prince. Obviously. AND you're pathetic. You could do with some sparring lessons. I could teach you". He starts to bob about in boxer attitude, dancing around Merlin jabbing at him.

Merlin dodges the jabs and works his way towards the door. However just as he slips out of the door he remembers something and pops his head back in to say "And another thing...". Arthur gets in a lucky punch and knocks him out cold.

Just at that very moment Morgana appears at Arthur's door, on her way to dinner, to find Arthur sitting in the middle of the floor with Merlin's head gently cradled in his lap, benevolently patting the boy's face. She smirks and remarks "Arthur, you must learn to keep more distance between yourself and the servants", then sweeps off triumphant.

The End 


End file.
